Wash It Away
by Aurora18021
Summary: After the tragic death of her husband, Angel Donovan, Buffy Summers-Donovan struggles to come to terms with his untimely death with the help of his sister and his old friends from England. -the rest inside-
1. From the Lightening in the Sky

**Title: Wash It Away**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS nor anything affiliated with it. This is for entertainment only and no profit what so ever. So basically: Joss is boss.**

**Rating: R now, eventually NC-17**

**Summary: After the tragic death of her husband, Angel Donovan, Buffy Summers-Donovan struggles to come to terms with his untimely death with the help of his sister and his old friends from England. But as she slowly regains her bearings and rebuilds her life, Buffy discovers that maybe her husband was not the man she thought he was, and that maybe love can come from unexpected places.**

A/N: The title comes from Black Lab's "Wash It Away" and the chapter's title is from Edgar Allen Poe's poem "Alone." In this story, Buffy did love Angel, so be patient with the Spuffy, but I promise it will happen. There will be NO graphic-ness of couples other than Spike and Buffy—together. Thanks, and enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated.

Chapter One: From the Lightening in the Sky

Buffy Summers-Donovan pushed a long strand of her golden hair behind her ear as she leaned over a pool of water mixed with shards of glass.

"Fuck," she hissed as her finger slipped against a sharp edge. Blood bubbled to the surface of her skin. She sucked on the cut while pulling out a rag.

Gingerly, Buffy wiped up the spilt water, carefully skirting around the pieces of glass. Then she delicately picked up the individual large shards and tossed them into the garbage.

Taking out the dustbin, Buffy brushed the remanding slivers of glass up, dumping them into the garbage. Finally, she stood up and studied the floor, looking for missed pieces.

Satisfied, Buffy put the garbage under the sink along with the dustbin. She glanced over at the clock, frowning slightly. It was nearly 8:00; Angel was supposed to be home almost an hour ago.

Walking over to the phone, Buffy picked it up, dialing her husband's cell phone number. Her call was instantly forwarded to voicemail. She listened to Angel's voice and the beep.

"Hi, it's me. I was just wondering where you are. Call me back, okay? It looks like it's gonna storm," she paused, "I love you."

She pressed the END button and placed the phone back in its receiver. Buffy wandered over to the kitchen table and stared out the window.

The sky was ominously cloudy and dark and thunder rolled in the distance. A shiver traveled up her spine. She hated storms. Always had. Her mother had been the bravest person she'd ever known, but as soon as the thunder started, she'd wake Buffy up and they'd curl up inside the car safely in the garage.

Buffy sniffled slightly and stood up, pulling her hair back. It was just the storm; it was making her feel all kinds of weird.

She went over to the sink and started washing the small pile of dishes she hadn't gotten to last night. Scrubbing hard, Buffy let her mind go, drifting off. It was better this way sometimes, not to think about anything.

What felt like hours later, the phone rang loud over the soft radio. Buffy jumped and set her dish down, rushing over to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"'lo," a voice said. It was male, unfamiliar and accented. "Angel there?"

"No," Buffy replied, leaning against the counter. "Who is this?"

"An old friend of his from St. James. Who the bloody hell is this?" The man was clearly agitated.

"I'm Buffy Summers-Donovan. _His wife_," Buffy answered, stressing the last two words.

The man let out a chuckle. "Right. Nice to meet you. Tell the hubby Spike called, yeah?"

"Fine," Buffy said shortly and hung up the phone. Never had talking to one person for such a short period of time irritated her this much.

Well, she thought, whoever this _Spike_ guy was, he was obviously not that close to Angel.

Pushing the thoughts of the rude caller away, Buffy went upstairs into her bedroom where her papers were scattered over the little nightstand. She carefully arranged them into a neat pile and sat on the edge of the bed. She flipped through the papers, skimming over the words.

It was a story that she'd written five years ago for her creative writing class in her sophomore year of college. A pang of regret startled her as she continued reading.

Buffy had dropped out after her fifth semester when her mother got sick, and then she'd met Angel. He'd been her savior, her rock and her best friend while her mother struggled with her brain tumor.

Two months after her mother had died, Angel had proposed and Buffy had accepted. She'd saw no need to go back to school since then, but now…maybe she should.

Stuffing the story into the nightstand drawer, Buffy pulled off her sweaty running clothes and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on hot. She stepped in, letting the water stream into her eyes, nose and mouth. After a few moments, Buffy picked up the shampoo and conditioner, scrubbing her hair to squeaky-clean perfection.

A half hour later, she stepped out feeling lighter and cleaner. She stood in front of the mirror with a fluffy towel wrapped around her body, and combed out her long hair.

Staring back at her in the mirror was a small, relatively thin blonde with long hair, dark eyes and perpetually golden skin. She was pretty, wholesome-looking, but not extraordinarily beautiful.

Buffy leaned forward, her breath steaming the mirror slightly. She examined her face, looking for any blemishes. A little pimple on her chin and another on her forehead.

Her funny-looking nose scrunched up in annoyance, and she applied some spot treatment on the two pimples. She and Angel were attending some function for his office, and there was no way she was sitting with the trophy wives with pimples.

Buffy slipped on her bathrobe, forgoing any underwear. She let her hair dry naturally in soft curls down her back. She was too lazy to dry it right now.

She walked back downstairs, her feet pitter-patting on the hard wood floor. Her eyes slid from shadow to shadow, and once again she wondered where Angel was.

The kitchen clock told her it was a quarter to nine. She picked up the phone again, dialing Angel's cell phone number. And once again, she was sent to his voice mail. Angry, Buffy dialed his work number, getting the same response.

"Where is he?" She asked the empty house as she hung up the phone. She curled herself up on the leather couch watching the lightening and rain.

The radio was playing a song, she didn't know what it was, but it was soft and slow and bittersweet. Her eyes stayed trained on the storm, she tried to stop worrying, stop thinking.

It wasn't working.

Buffy stood up again and went into the kitchen, grabbing the wine and a wine glass. It was her favorite with swirls blue glass on the stem. She poured a chardonnay into the glass and took a sip.

Before she'd met Angel, she'd never been much of a drinker. A little sip of beer here another sip of wine there. But after her third date with Angel, she realized he liked having wine at dinner or a drink late at night. It'd seemed so sophisticated of him at the time that Buffy would always have a glass with him. Now it was a force of habit, and the bitter flavor had grown on her.

A loud knock at the door startled Buffy, and she set her glass down quickly before answering the door.

She opened it a crack to see two uniformed officers standing there, wet from the rain.

"Mrs. Donovan?" The taller one asked.

"Yeah," Buffy answered, her brow furrowed.

"Your husband is Angel Donovan?" He asked, glancing down at a notepad in his hand.

Buffy could feel her stomach sloshing, her pulse racing. "Yeah, he is. Is something wrong?"

The second police officer stepped forward. "Mrs. Donovan, your husband was in a car accident on Main Street. His injuries are very severe. They've taken him to Sunnydale General-"

"What?" Buffy rasped, her head woozy. She couldn't think, her tongue felt thick in her mouth. "What happened?"

"Ma'am," the first police officer said clearly, "your husband was in an accident and they've taken him to Sunnydale General, we'll give you a ride."

Buffy blinked rapidly. "Let me just…" she glanced down at her robe. "Change. I have to change. I'm wearing a robe."

"Okay," the shorter officer said with a calm voice. "We'll wait right here."

Buffy nodded and turned to run upstairs. Tears blurred her vision as she threw on a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans while sliding her feet into a pair of slip-ons.

She walked back down and took her purse off the table where she'd left it hours ago. "Okay, I-I'm ready," she said to the officers.

They led her outside and into the police car. Her mind raced with worry and fear. Was Angel going to be okay? She hugged herself as thick tears rolled down her face.

They pulled up to the Emergency Entrance and helped Buffy out of the car. She let her feet guide her into the building and to the front desk.

"Name?"

"Buffy Summers-Donovan," she said numbly. "My husband was…" She couldn't say it. Tears threatened to fall again. She blinked and the tears became unstuck, falling freely.

The nurse took pity on her. "Donovan, right?"

Buffy could only nod.

The nurse flipped through the files. "Your husband was admitted twenty minutes ago. They're operating on him now," she looked up at Buffy. "Darling, is there anyone you need to call?"

Buffy swallowed, her eyes drifting shut. "Yes, my sister-in-law. I didn't…I didn't bring my phone."

"There's a payphone against the wall over there." The nurse gestured and handed her a couple coins. Buffy followed her finger numbly.

"Okay, thank you," she said stiffly and walked over to the phone. Everything ached, everything hurt. Her head pounded.

She dialed the number and slowly lifted the phone up to her ear. She answered on second ring.

"Yo?"

"Faith, it's me, Buffy. Something's happened, you have to come." Buffy's voice cracked pitifully.

"B? What happened?"

"Angel, he's…he's at Sunnydale General. Please come," Buffy begged with hiccupping sobs.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'll be there in five minutes," Faith said and Buffy could hear her moving. "Don't hang up, okay? Stay with me."

Buffy nodded her head, tears spilling over. "Okay."

* * *

Two hours later, Angel Liam Donovan was pronounced dead.

Buffy sagged against her sister-in-law, clutching her hand like a lifeline. Sobs racked her body and she pressed her palms against her eyes, trying in vain to stop the tears.

"B? Buffy?" Faith called, her own voice thick with tears. "Come on, let's get you home."

"NO!" Buffy shook her head vehemently. "I can't…I can't go back there, not tonight, not now."

"Okay, okay," Faith said, holding the blonde. "You can stay with me, I have a pull out couch, no biggie. 'kay?"

Buffy shivered and gave a tiny nod of understanding.

Together they managed to walk out of the hospital and to Faith's old car. The rain was still falling, little drops biting her skin.

Buffy tilted her head up to the sky and closed her eyes. She was so tired and everything hurt.

She just wanted it to go away.

"Buffy…" Faith said softly, trying not to startle the blonde.

Buffy didn't move, she just stood there, a perfect statue.

"Come on, B, we gotta go," Faith urged as she wiped a rain mixed tear from her face.

What was she supposed to do? How could she go on with out him?

The rain fell harder, but she just stood there, praying for it to wash the pain away.

(a/n: let me know what you think!)


	2. Black

(A/N: thanks for the great reviews!)

Chapter Two: Black

_One Week Later_

"…In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."

Dressed in a simple black dress, Buffy stood solemnly by the grave only half-listening to the priest's words. Her eyes roved over the people, all in black with somber expressions. She didn't even recognize half of them. Stupidly, she wondered who they were, how they'd known Angel.

For the millionth time, her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. When would it stop? Wouldn't she run out of tears?

Buffy discretely brushed a lone tear off her cheek, sniffling slightly. She turned her attention to the priest again.

The past week had been like one of those dreams where she watched herself doing something from the outside looking in. All she could remember was picking out the gleaming dark wood casket with the beautiful silk lining. Beautiful like Angel.

A warm hand touched hers. Faith.

Buffy gripped her sister-in-law's hand. She was wearing a relatively conservative outfit, a short black skirt, high heels and a black blouse that Buffy knew was hers.

Faith mouthed bits and pieces of the prayers, and Buffy found herself watching her, trying to follow the words. It was hopeless, she decided. Buffy had only been to church a couple of times in her life, but Faith had gone to a Catholic school as a kid like Angel.

Buffy tore her gaze from the grave, trying to focus on something else. Anything else. Her eyes caught a glimpse of nearly white hair poking through the crowd. Against the black, the hair stood out in stark relief, and Buffy sought out for the head the hair belonged to.

Finally, she caught a glimpse of a face. It was different looking, all angles and sharp edges. High razor cheekbones, sharp jaw, but an oddly full mouth.

She wondered who he was.

Buffy kept her gaze on the peculiar man, trying to place him, but she knew she'd never met him. Probably a friend of Angel's from work, she mused. It was nice that he could come.

Tears slipped down her faces as the priest said one last "Amen."

Faith tugged her hand and they moved through the crowd. Everyone murmured, "I'm so sorry for your loss." Faith just ignored them; pulling Buffy as she murmured back, "Thank you."

Faith stopped in front of a small group of people and let go of Buffy's hand to hug them. Buffy looked up, surprised by Faith's gesture.

Instantly her eyes met the man's she'd seen before. The one with the white hair.

"Hello." That voice, Buffy thought. She'd heard it before.

"Buffy," Faith began, touching her shoulder lightly. "This is Will, he's a friend from London."

"Nice to meet you," Buffy responded with a slight inclination of her head. Her eyes were unfocused. She just wanted to go home.

"B, this is Will's uncle, Rupert Giles, and his daughter. Angel and I grew up with them," Faith explained as an older, distinguished looking man walked up and grasped Buffy's hands.

"I'm so deeply sorry for your loss," Giles told her, and for once Buffy could feel the sincerity in those words.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice a bare whisper. Her eyes then shifted to a teenage girl, no more than fifteen, standing next to the older man. Her mouth was turn down, her big blue eyes filled with sorrow.

"I'm Dawn," she said, pulling on a strand of her dark hair.

Buffy managed to crack a flimsy smile. "I'm Buffy. It's nice to meet you."

Giles cleared his throat. "We'll see you back at the house then," he said to Faith and she nodded.

"Buffy and I'll stop by later," she confirmed.

Buffy just nodded blankly while Faith led her back to the gravesite. Angel's grave.

"Listen, I hope that wasn't too awkward," Faith began, "but Giles practically raised us when we were in school. Angel and Will were best friends at St. James."

Buffy tried to picture Angel as a young teenage boy. It was so hard to do; he was always so calm, so charismatic, so grown-up. He was perfect, and now she'd lost him.

"Do you mind?" Faith was asking.

Buffy tried to clear her head. "Mind what?"

"If we stop by their house. It would just be the five of us," Faith said, carefully watching her sister-in-law's face.

"No," Buffy said, "no I don't mind." Her voice sounded far away to her ears.

She and Faith stood in front of the grave until the crowd had dwindled to the graveyard people. The two men stood there respectively waiting for them to leave.

Finally, Faith half-pulled Buffy away. "Come on," she said into the blonde's ear, "let's get something to eat."

Buffy stared down at the bone-white china cup filled with tea. The dark liquid wobbled as she set it down on the tea plate.

Once again, Buffy looked up at the three unfamiliar faces, wondering what to say. Was there really anything to say?

Giles cleared his throat loudly. "Erm, Buffy, have you lived in Sunnydale your whole life?"

Buffy shook her head no. "I'm from LA, I moved with…" She swallowed, dropping her gaze to her hands.

A loud clatter startled Buffy and her head snapped up. Will sat on the chair opposite hers, his fist clenched and his face tight. "Sorry," he mumbled, picking up the shattered cup.

Faith leaped up to help him. "I'll get the dustbin," she announced and disappeared down the long hallway.

Buffy let her eyes drift over the elegant room. The Giles' house was more of a mansion than anything, and was filled with antiques and lovely wooden furniture. She had yet to spot a TV or computer. Briefly, Buffy wondered how the teenage girl lived without them.

Faith returned shortly and helped Will pick up the larger pieces before brushing the remainder in the dustbin. The scene painfully reminded Buffy of her own accident that evening.

Everything hurts, Buffy thought, her hands twisting together.

"Buffy," Giles said gently and the blonde met his gaze.

"Oh sorry," she apologized, "I was just spacing a little."

"Don't apologize, I was just wondering where you're staying right now," Giles asked.

"Oh." Buffy hesitated. "I'm staying with Faith, for now at least."

Giles's eyes flickered over to Faith who had an unreadable look in her eyes. She turned to her sister-in-law. "Listen, B, I meant to tell you sooner, but with everything going on…" she stopped, taking a deep breath. "I'm moving to New York in about a week. I got a job offer there."

Buffy could feel herself literally breaking into a thousand pieces.

No.

Faith couldn't leave, not now. She had no one else, not her mother, not her father. She hadn't kept in contact with any of her college friends, much less seen them.

She was alone.

"You're leaving?" Buffy's voice cracked.

Guilt was plain of Faith's face. "I'm sorry, I accepted the day…I can't take it back."

Buffy's throat felt tight, and she drew in a shaky breath. "Oh."

"Buffy," Giles's calm tone caught her attention, and she slowly shifted her gaze to him, her vision blurred.

"You're more than welcome to stay here. I know we've just met, but Angel was like a son to me, and my home is always open to you."

Tears leaked out of Buffy's eyes. "Thank you," she stuttered. "But I wouldn't want to impose."

"You wouldn't be," Giles told her firmly. "Please, stay here with us."

"You could even share my room," Dawn finally spoke, her voice almost hopeful.

Buffy managed to crack a small smile at that. "Thank you," she said and for the first time since Angel had died, she felt a little bit more focused.

"Think nothing of it, my dear," Giles replied with a faint smile of his own. "Well, I suspect you and Faith are exhausted, as am I. Do stop by tomorrow, and I'll give you a more tour of my home beyond this room."

Buffy nodded gratefully and stood up with Faith. "Good night," she said softly as Faith hugged her friends.

They walked out into the bizarrely crisp night, and Buffy looked up at the faint stars against the dark sky before climbing into the passenger seat.

Was Angel up there? She wondered as she and Faith drove to her apartment in silence.

Slowly, Buffy made her way to the pullout couch, and didn't even bother washing her face or changing into pajamas. She just slipped out of her painful high heels, pulled off the dress and curled into bed.

"Night, B," Faith called out, her voice a whisper.

"Night," Buffy replied. She waited until Faith's door clicked shut before sitting up. She looked out the small window, out at the sky and the little park across the street.

No one was there this late at night, obviously, but the swings still moved, pushed by a phantom breeze. Buffy had never believed in the supernatural or ghosts, but now…she wanted so badly to believe.

"Angel," she said out loud, her voice thick. "I love you." Tears spilt on to her pillow, and she closed her eyes, falling into a fitful sleep.

**(hope you enjoyed! reviews are awesome!)**


	3. Gone

**Chapter 3: Gone**

Sun streamed in from the open window, waking Buffy. She groaned, rubbing her eyes. Her lashes were glued together by dried tears, and it took a few moments to pry her eyes open.

"Mornin', B," Faith greeted from the kitchen.

Feeling slightly self-conscious in just her bra and panties, Buffy yanked on a crumpled shirt and her jeans. She stood up and sniffed the air. "Smells good," Buffy offered.

Faith snorted. "Yeah right. I'm trying to remember how my mom used to make her famous eggs, but I'm blanking."

Buffy shook her head. "It's not a big deal."

Faith slammed the pan down on the counter. "Yes it is! Fuck!" She threw the eggs down the sink, and they broke open, oozing egg yolk.

Buffy jumped, startled by the brunette's sudden explosion. "Faith?"

She rested her elbows on the counter, rubbing her head. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just fuckin' stressed out."

Buffy's heart broke a little more at the sight of her sister-in-law. Faith had been strong for the last week and a half for her, now it was Buffy's turn to do the comforting.

She stepped forward and slowly wrapped her arms around the brunette. Buffy could feel Faith's ragged breath against her neck and squeezed tighter.

In the past, they had never been particularly affectionate, they'd probably hugged once or twice, but other than that fateful night, they really hadn't.

Finally Faith's breathing eased, and Buffy pulled back. "You okay?"

Faith sniffled. "Five by five," she told her and went to grab her jacket. "Hey, after work I can take you to your house. If you need anything."

Buffy froze at the suggestion. "That's okay, I'm good," she replied, trying to keep a brave face. "Maybe later."

Faith gave her a look that clearly said she doubted the blonde's words, but shrugged. "'Kay, later, B."

The door slammed shut, and Buffy sat down in a chair, staring at nothing.

She couldn't do this, Buffy realized, blinking hard. It was too much like she was waiting for Angel to come home…like nothing had happened.

Suddenly restless, Buffy sprang to her feet and threw off her rumpled shirt and walked into Faith's room. She flung the closet door open and thumbed through the various shirts.

Too skimpy, too low-cut, too thin…Buffy rejected almost half of Faith's clothes in less than a minute. Finally, she settled on a tight, stretchy black long-sleeve shirt that looked like it'd only been worn once. Buffy toyed with the idea of borrowing a pair of Faith's pants, but nixed it after spotting five pairs of tight, black leather pants.

There was a time she'd have worn them, Buffy remembered as she ran a brush through her curls. But since she'd been married to Angel, her clothes had turned to a more understated sexy elegance. Older. Not quite so college-party girl.

Her little black purse was right by the fold-out couch where she had left it, and Buffy picked it up, emptying out the contents.

Carefully, she applied a little cover-up and chapstick, trying to look halfway decent. She slipped her feet into her slip-ons and snatched the extra key as she walked out the door, locking it tightly.

The sun temporarily blinded her, and she had to shield her eyes. Nibbling slightly on her lower lip, Buffy vainly tried to remember where the Giles' lived. She knew it was in one of the nice neighborhoods by the ocean, or on it in their case, but she wasn't sure which road.

Buffy's pace quickened as she neared the bus stop. She folded her arms around herself and settled against the thick pane surrounding the bus bench. According to the bus schedule, the next bus to Ocean View Heights, the Giles' neighborhood, would arrive in seven minutes.

Twenty-five minutes later, Buffy was standing outside of the Giles' home. Their mansion looked even more massive and impressive than it did the night before. Hesitantly, Buffy reached forward, pressing the elaborate doorbell. A moment passed before the heavy wooden door creaked open revealing Will.

Buffy blinked in surprise. "Oh…hi." The words fell awkwardly from her mouth. "Is Mr. Giles here?" Even more awkward, she winced.

"Rupes? He's at one of his shops," Spike paused, studying her with a puzzled look. "Did you need somethin'?"

Buffy cleared her throat. "Um, not really…Mr. Giles offered to give me a tour of the house, but I can go if he's not here…" she trailed off with a weak shrug.

Will peered behind her. "How'd you get here?"

"The bus," Buffy answered honestly. "Faith has the car."

Without a word, Will left the door wide open and walked away. Buffy stood there, dumbfounded.

Will turned around with a raised scarred brow. "You comin'?"

Buffy scrambled to open the screen door and stepped into the foyer, closing the wood door with loud noise. She followed Will down the hallway to a massive kitchen. Polished granite counters gleamed against dark wood and stainless steel.

"Pretty," she commented softly, running her hands over the counter. The flecks of green entranced her and she sighed.

Will stared at her for a moment. "Yeah." His voice, Buffy noticed, was rougher than a minute ago.

She obediently followed him down a pair of steps into a beautiful dining room. Once again the dark wood contrasted with simple white plaster walls. She walked over to the wall, touching the framed picture.

In it Buffy identified Angel, Will, a blonde and a brunette. They were all huddled together, smiling—sort of. Will had his arms around the unfamiliar brunette, and his eyes were solely on her, while she smiled coquettishly into the camera. But Angel…his arms were wrapped around the blonde loosely, but that wasn't what caught Buffy's eye. It was the look on his face, younger than she'd ever seen him look.

"That was the summer after high school," Will said, answering her unspoken question.

Buffy reached out and touched the picture lightly. "He doesn't really look that different, but his…expression, that's different."

"Yeah, Angel was always more mature than the rest of us," Will responded with a soft chuckle.

"Who's the girl?" Buffy asked automatically. She watched a slight play of emotions cross over Will's face.

"His old girlfriend from high school. Darla," Will answered with a shrug. "Don't know much 'bout her now."

"She's pretty," Buffy said quietly. She couldn't remember if Angel had ever told her about a girl named Darla. She fished through her memories, trying to recall if they had ever spoken of their past loves.

"So, I, uh, can take you 'round to the living room, an' such," Will's voice sliced through her reverie.

"Oh, yeah," Buffy startled to attention. "Thanks."

For the next half hour, Will showed her each room of the house, giving a brief explanation if necessary. Buffy was surprisingly grateful for the impersonal tour, and let herself drift. She drank up the beautiful interior, the dark wood floor and smooth angled walls.

"…one of the guestrooms."

Buffy tuned back in as they finished at the top of the stairs. "Sorry?"

Will glanced at her quickly. "M' uncle said you're planning on stayin' for a bit, yeah?"

Clearing her throat, Buffy responded, "Um, yes. I mean, your uncle offered." Suddenly, like a hammer to the face, she realized why he sounded so familiar. "You called."

"What's that?" Will asked, frowning as he started down the stairs.

Buffy continued with certainty. "You called that night. Before Angel…" she stopped and then finished, "you said you were Spike."

"Yeah," he exhaled. "Wasn't sure if you'd remember that. It's a nickname back from our school days. I didn't really think I'd be meetin' you like…this."

"Does Faith call you 'Spike'?" Buffy asked, following him down the steps.

"Sometimes," he acknowledged, "'m not the same bloke I was then. It's just a name now."

"It's interesting," Buffy said slowly, trying the name, "Spike."

"You're welcome to use it," he told her with a faint tinge of humor to his voice.

Buffy could feel herself relaxing, if only a little. "Thanks," she replied dryly with a glance over her shoulder. "When will Mr. Giles be back?"

"Giles," Spike corrected her. "Everyone just calls him by his last name. Or Rupes if you're me. An' he'll be back soon. I gotta talk to him 'bout headin' back to the motherland."

"Where do you live?" Buffy questioned conversationally.

"London, in a tiny flat," Spike replied.

There was the deafening sound of the front door being shut and a young woman's voice calling out, "Spike?"

"By the stairs, Bit!" Spike shouted back. Seconds later, Dawn barreled around the corner.

"Oh!" She started. "Hi." Dawn looked nervous, glancing at Buffy with trepidation.

"How was your day?" Spike inquired, leaning against the wall.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Same as usual. Margo the freak fainted. Again."

"Frog?" Spike asked.

"No, fetal pig," Dawn responded with a scrunch of her nose. She moved to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing at Buffy again.

Spike took that as his cue. "You remember Buffy, yeah Dawn?"

The young woman nodded, looking a little hesitant. "Sure. Hi."

"Hey," Buffy replied, trying to smile kindly. It seemed to take an enormous effort to pull her lips upward.

"Are you…" Dawn trailed off, glancing between the two blondes. "Are you gonna stay here?"

Buffy was wondering that herself. "Well," she fished around, thinking of something to encompass both options. "I think so."

Big blue eyes peered at her almost cautiously. "Okay."

Buffy turned to Spike. "Um, thank you, for the tour, I mean. I should probably get going."

Spike frowned a little. "Didn't you catch the bus?"

"Yeah," Buffy nodded quickly. "The stop is just a couple of blocks from here—"

"Don't worry," Dawn piped up with a sudden grin. "Spike can take you back."

Spike rolled his eyes at the teen. "You can't keep holdin' that over me, Bit." He pulled out a key chain from his pocket and twirled it around his finger.

Feeling heat burn its way up her neck, Buffy shook her head vehemently. "Oh, no, you totally don't have to."

"Of course he does," Dawn chirped. "It's my car he's using, so I have final say."

"Please, Nibblet, you don't even have your bloody license," Spike replied, and this time Buffy caught the lingering jest behind their banter.

She followed the pair to front door, watching the spectacle in front of her. Like bickering teen siblings, they preceded to argue the technicalities of the car.

"Uncle Giles bought it for me," Dawn said with triumphant look, "so it's mine. Just because I can't legally drive it, doesn't mean you can go all nuts with it. Besides I get my temps in a couple months."

"Go do your homework," Spike commanded with finality, "I'll be back in a little while."

Dawn flipped her long hair over her shoulder. "Whatever," then shyly she added, "Bye, Buffy."

Buffy gave her a small wave before trailing after Spike to a massive black car. It was clearly an old vehicle, too large to be in style anymore. "Wow," she said, trying to hide her distaste.

Spike beamed. "I bloody love this car. A gorgeous classic, she is."

Buffy just sank into the deep bucket seats. She felt like the whole car was trying to swallow her up, and she shifted uncomfortably.

They drove in a silence that wasn't really awkward, but more like a skip in a song, odd and puzzling. She was staring out of the window when she noticed that they were headed towards the downtown which ran on Main Street. Heart pounding frantically, Buffy half-shouted, "Turn right!"

Spike swerved the car quickly, and glanced over at her with confusion, his scarred eyebrow shooting upward.

Buffy shrank back in her seat, tilting her face to the window. She should have explained herself but the words were stuck somewhere between her stomach and throat. Instead she asked, "So this is Dawn's car?"

Spike laughed at that. "Rupes needed to bribe her with something to move here from New York. 'm thinkin' of buying it from him, and he'll use the money to buy her a new one, something more girly and whatnot."

"She seems…" Buffy trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Bit's been through a lot," Spike told her and that seemed to explain the extraordinariness of his cousin.

"I like her," she announced, "She's sweet and…full of life, I guess."

"Yeah, you think that now but then you live with the chit…" Spike grumbled, but Buffy could hear his love laced in his words.

"So how long are you staying?" Buffy questioned as she directed him into Faith's neighborhood. She kept talking, hoping to fool herself into thinking everything was normal.

"I was thinkin' 'nother week or so. 'S not like I've got a nine-to-five job I gotta report to, an' my mate is lookin' out for my flat. Rupes and Nibblet won't mind me stayin' for a while."

It suddenly occurred to Buffy to ask, "How long have they lived here? I would think that Angel would've mentioned it. You guys all seem really…close." Would've, she echoed in her mind shakily.

"Only a couple of months," Spike answered casually, not looking over at her. "'Sides, it's Angel. He liked doing things on his own. Think it's always been a thorn in his side to admit he needed an adult to watch over him as a kiddie."

It was so true, Buffy realized. Angel would always grumble when a senior associate corrected him at work, and he was the one fixing things up around the house. The memory of Angel dressed in one of his white undershirts and black sweatpants fixing the sink while talking to her about funny clients burned a hole in her gut. So much for distraction, she thought with a small choked sob.

"Will you tell me about him?" There was no question who "him" was.

"Not now," Spike said quietly, "Later. Promise. Just not now."

Buffy tried to nod understandingly. "Okay." She gave him the address, and he parked on the side of the street. Kindly, he walked her into the building and up the stairs to Faith's place.

Unlocking the door, Buffy was suspired to see Faith on the couch in sweats and a tank top. A bottle of tequila sat nestled in the crock of her arm like a lover.

"Hey B, Spike," she slurred with a dazed grin. She held up the half empty bottle. "Join me?"

The second surprise came from Spike. "Soddin' hell yes," he said with evident relief and plopped down next to her, already unscrewing the bottle.

"B, come on," Faith patted her other side. "We could all use this."

But Spike gave her the ultimatum. "If 'm gonna tell you about Peaches, it'd best be with a bottle of shitty tequila."

Without further prompting, Buffy sat down and folded her feet underneath her. "Hand it over." after a second's pause, she added, "And who's Peaches?"

(A/N: hope you enjoyed and reviews are great to read so keep 'em coming!)


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